


it's kind of nice to just go home

by altschmerzes



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Families of Choice, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Past Abuse, Post-Eleventh Hour, Team as Family, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 02:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10349901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altschmerzes/pseuds/altschmerzes
Summary: (sort of a follow up to my fic 'the game is already lost', but can easily be read on its own)Taako has a bad day, Magnus exercises his cuddling skills, the tables turn, and Merle is not prepared to deal with feelings today. A gen fic heavy on the affection, light on the plot, told in three parts.





	

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. sweet moses, friends, i had no idea the tropes i was here for would be what this fandom is here for but here i am, with the #1 fic by kudos??? i'm gonna literally cry, y'all and your lovely response to 'the game is already lost' is. the best thing i could've hoped for.
> 
> 2\. first bit set ambiguously pre-refuge and post my other fic, second two bits set immediately post the eleventh hour arc.
> 
> 3\. see end notes for warnings.

 

> _Sometimes when someone says, “go big or go home,” it’s kind of nice to just go home. (If you can’t stand the heat, turn the A/C on.)_ \- A Softer World, E. Horne  & J. Comeau

The bad days are easier, somehow, when there’s an identifiable reason for them. When Taako can identify a batch of burned muffins or a silhouette just familiar enough to stop his heart in his chest before the person turns around and _isn’t_ who he thought it was as the source of the reason he feels like death on a stick, it’s at least that tiny bit more excusable. Today, though… man, today.

There’s no identifiable reason for today. Taako wakes up and feels like the slightly off, artificial-feeling light filtering through the gap in the curtains is weighing down on him, pressing him into his bed. He feels simultaneously like he’s being pushed into his mattress and like he might float away. Like he’s insubstantial. Like he’s nothing at all.

With a soft groan, barely more than a breath of air, Taako rolls over to face the wall. He feels like static. He feels _awful_.

It could’ve been minutes or hours, hell, it could’ve been days, for all the passage of time had ever cooperated with Taako’s understanding of it, before the door to his room swung gently open. Whoever it is that’s opened the door, Taako figures there are two ways this can end. Either this person is here to kill him, and will therefore hopefully get on that soonish, or this person is not here to kill him, in which case maybe they will close the fucking blinds.

The blinds make a soft _shhhck_ sound as they slide closed, and Taako almost cries in relief that this mind-reader-

“Taako?”

Okay. Not a mindreader. Just Magnus.

The mattress dips down next to Taako’s shoulder and that same low voice repeats his name again. Taako realizes belatedly that he hadn’t responded to the first inquiry and tries to drum up the breath to fix that.

A muffled, hoarse hum is all that actually comes out.

“Rough day, huh?”

Another hum, this time slightly canted to the affirmative.

“Alright. I can roll with that. Cool if I touch you?”

Taako, eyes squeezed tight shut, nods. He doesn’t even trust his voice to _try_ this time, not after being hit by the sudden, bone-deep desire to ask for a hug. Taako knows he should’ve done that earlier, should’ve got up right away and gone to find Magnus, hell, Magnus has _told_ him to just ask when he wants a hug. They’ve _talked_ about this. To be fair, though, Taako’s not sure he has the energy to so much as roll over right now, and the damnable desire to be hugged is one he’s only just identified.

Another shift of the mattress, and Taako freezes as Magnus lays down behind him, wrapping an arm over his side and across his chest.

“Just tell me to fuck off if you want me to leave.”

Magnus’s voice is easygoing and light, given the circumstances. Taako swallows hard and, having opened his eyes by this point, establishing that he’s _not_ actually going to cry, stares resolutely at the wall. After a moment, Magnus shifts, tapping Taako on the shoulder. Taako eases himself up off the mattress, just far enough for Magnus to snake the arm not draped over his side underneath his neck, palm pressing flat to the elf’s sternum. It’s like he’s some kind of muscley octopus, wrapped around Taako completely.

You’d think it would feel suffocating, having Magnus pressed so close to his back, holding him in an embrace that, while gentle, is strong and tight. It doesn’t. It feels grounding, like for the first time all day he isn’t just about to float up off the bed and disappear into nothing at all. Taako breathes in shallow heaves of in and out, trying not to disrupt the pace, to cry like he’s been fighting off all freaking morning.

It’s something of a losing fight, by this point, and Taako’s breath hitches in tiny jerks and spasms. Magnus’s thumb begins to sweep in tiny strokes over Taako’s chest, pressing against the fabric of his sleep shirt. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask any questions or offer any reassurances, just lays there and quietly offers his support.

Taako is grateful for it, though he doesn’t voice this. He merely lifts one slightly shaking hand to lightly grasp Magnus’s wrist, squeezing a little to try and convey his appreciation. It feels selfish, to let Magnus lay here with him and waste his time like this, but never let it be said that Taako is anything but a gratuitously selfish individual. He might feel a few sharp pangs of guilt, hear a voice in the back of his head hissing that he should know better than to be relying on anyone like this, but Taako shakes his head minutely, ignoring both. His fingers tighten just slightly around Magnus’s wrist and he sighs, relaxing back against the chest behind him. He’s got nowhere to be today, and no energy to go even if he did. Might as well take what’s being offered while someone is offering it.

\---

Refuge is a spectre that hangs over all three of their shoulders, in the first days after they come back. None of them know how to talk about it, if they _can_ talk about it, the things the cup showed them. The loops may have ended but the deaths, their own and the ones they witnessed, weigh heavy in their hearts.

It’s been almost a day since Taako has seen Magnus, and he’s getting worried. After close calls, it’s normally hard to get a minute away from him. It’s like Magnus thinks they’ll disappear if he takes his eyes off of them or something. This time, though, he’d disappeared himself, into his room as soon as he was able, and Taako hasn’t seen him since. It’s concerning enough that the wizard has gone looking for his friend, hoping Magnus doesn’t still look as bad as he had the last time Taako saw him.

Unfortunately, he looks worse.

“Just tell me to fuck off if you want me to leave,” Taako says after a moment of panicked silence, though the calm in his voice is a lot more forced than Magnus’s had been, back what feels like a hundred years ago, before Refuge.

Magnus almost laughs, shoulders jerking slightly. Taako takes that as a positive sign and walks over, sitting down on the bed Magnus is currently curled up on, facing the wall. Taking a leaf out of the playbook Magnus followed the last time they were in this situation, albeit with the roles reversed, Taako flops down on the bed, wrapping his arms around his teammate as best he can, considering their disparate sizes. It’s a pretty decent hug, if Taako does say so himself. He’s been getting pretty good at those, lately.

It’s quiet for a while until Magnus speaks.

“You ever lose anyone? Anyone close to you, anyone you- you loved?”

_Can’t lose what you don’t have_ , Taako thinks. “Nope,” Taako says.

“Before them,” Magnus says, his voice thick with grief and damp from crying, “I didn’t know that- I didn’t know family wasn’t supposed to hurt. I didn’t know that your family wasn’t supposed to… Wasn’t supposed to make you hurt.”

Taako chokes down the wounded noise that almost pulls out of his throat. He presses his forehead harder against the back of Magnus’s shoulder, curling closer to him, holding on tighter, anything he can do to try and convey that whoever it was, Magnus may have lost them, but that doesn’t mean he’s _alone_. He’s still got people, and Taako may be really bad at this, may be new at having what Magnus keeps insisting is family, rough around the edges, terrible at expressing _anything_ , godawful when it comes to being counted on to be reliable or supportive, but the very _last_ thing he’s going to do is make Magnus hurt, at least not on purpose.

On the one hand, Taako could say all of this. On the other, much more realistic hand, he could say nothing at all, and choose to convey everything he can’t say via holding Magnus as tightly as he can.

Which is what he does, sighing in a way he can at least pretend doesn’t hitch halfway through. Taako can feel Magnus’s ribcage under his arm, rising and falling with each of his friend’s breaths. He can also feel how the breaths tremble, Magnus’s strong, broad side shaking ever so slightly under his touch.

“Thank you.” Magnus’s voice is smaller than Taako thinks Magnus’s voice should ever be. He squeezes Taako’s hands, threaded together with his and pressed against his chest. “Thank you for staying with me.”

Taako makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat but notably doesn’t move. If anything, he settles in further, turning his head and laying his cheek against Magnus’s shoulder blade. It doesn’t seem like Magnus is going to get up any time soon, and Taako figures if he doesn’t have to expend the energy to get out of bed, why go to the extra trouble. It’s kind of nice here, and if not moving means staying here and holding Magnus, well, there are worse positions Taako has found himself occupying in life.

\---

It’s not that long after Refuge, not even forty eight hours after Taako’s successful comforting attempt, when he finds himself sliding back into the empty-chested place of loneliness and isolation. Deciding to do what he supposes is the responsible, healthy thing to do at this point and mooch of the company of whichever of his friends is in the living room at the moment rather than curl up alone in his bed, Taako heads out, trying to coax a smile onto his face.

Merle is sitting on the couch when Taako meanders in, a comically tiny tree in a decorative pot sitting in his lap. He’s trimming the edges of the tree with equally comically tiny scissors, and Taako snorts. Looking around and noting the other lack of, well, anything at all to do, Taako flops down onto the couch, directing his eyes to the fantasy tv mounted in the wall. Merle doesn’t greet him, or really acknowledge his presence at all, which is fine by Taako. The urge to be around people doesn’t necessarily lend itself to the urge to _explain_ that to people, so it’s just as well that Merle isn’t questioning why the elf is suddenly sprawled out on the couch next to him.

It takes Merle twenty minutes to acknowledge Taako’s presence. His voice is trying way too hard to be casual, which of course means it sounds as far from casual as possible.

“Do you regret it?” The question is surprising for its sincerity, the blunt way Merle asks it. Taako and Merle, they don’t talk like this. Magnus does, more often then they do at any rate, but without his influence, the likelihood of the two of them having this kind of conversation on their own is… low.

“Psht, regret what?” Taako asks. He doesn’t look at Merle. Despite the question, he’s pretty sure he already knows.

“The cup. Your choice.”

“Nope.” The answer is quick and, moreso than Taako will admit to, brittle. “No regrets, my man, y’know how it is.”

Seconds tick by with only the faint volume of the fantasy tv in the background to break the suddenly heavy silence. Even the snipping of Merle’s dumb tiny scissors has stopped, and Taako doesn’t appreciate the urge he feels tugging behind his sternum to _do something_. That urge didn’t used to be there, and it’s become incredibly inconvenient since its appearance. Taako squeezes his eyes shut, curses his - and he shudders to think the word - _conscience_ , and keeps his eyes closed while he says what he says next.

“I dunno what the cup showed you,” he says, trying to keep his voice light and probably failing at sounding casual just about as hard as Merle had earlier, “but, it like. Probably wasn’t your fault. Or whatever.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence while Merle tries to figure out what to say. It takes him long enough that Taako is starting to get nervous, breathing speeding up and heart pounding in his throat, convinced he’s really put his foot in it this time. The touch on his head is unexpected, and even more unexpected is how gentle it is. Despite Taako’s initial flinch, closing his eyes and ducking his face into the cushion of the couch, Merle’s hand stays where it is. It hovers a little uncertainly, waiting to see if Taako will pull away, before settling at the nape of his neck, warm and solid.

“You’re a good kid, y’know,” Merle says quietly, voice just a touch stiff and awkward.

He doesn’t say anything else, and Taako swallows down the urge to scoff the comment off. Partially, it’s out of respect for Merle’s - however erroneous - opinions, remembering some gentle lecture Magnus gave him about letting people say nice things to him and not immediately making a joke or telling them they’re dumb, it it’s something else too. Part of it is trying to do better, do what Magnus said, but mostly he’s afraid that if he says anything combative, or moves, or even breathes too hard, it might make Merle leave, and that absurdly kind hand might disappear off the back of his head, take away the first thing that’s made Taako feel warm all day.

Magnus walks in, at that point, mid-story about some cool thing he saw Carey do, and Taako tenses all over again. However, despite the fragile nature of the interaction Magnus has unwittingly barged in on, Merle’s hand stays where it is. If anything, it grips fractionally harder. It feels nice.

It feels like progress.

**Author's Note:**

> warnings for: depression spiral description in the first section, a vague reference to past abuse via magnus's bio family, references to death and grief, and light spoilers for the eleventh hour arc.


End file.
